


Skeleton Key

by Such_Sweet_Sorrow



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, Getting Together, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Trans Caspar von Bergliez, Trans Linhardt von Hevring, Trans Male Character, Trans Porn Written by Trans People, Vaginal Fingering, post crimson flower route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23535769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Such_Sweet_Sorrow/pseuds/Such_Sweet_Sorrow
Summary: "'I'm kind of in love with you,' Caspar blurts, and then laughs nervously. 'Have been. For years.' A beat. 'Um. That's it.'"--The war is over, and Caspar has a confession to make.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 6
Kudos: 108





	Skeleton Key

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a PWP but I always have to put a LITTLE plot in. Enjoy!

The Immaculate One is dead, and Linhardt doesn’t feel a thing. 

Nobody does, at first. The whispers of battalions and the remnants of skirmishes die out slowly as word floods through the battlefield, through the mouths of friends and foes alike, that the war is done. The humid heat of flames lays heavy atop the field, making everything seem foggy. Linhardt thinks he sees Professor Byleth fainting in Edelgard’s arms. Thinks he hears the anguished cries of Catherine as Shamir looks on, a mixture of disgust and melancholy in her eyes. 

The one thing he’s sure of, though, is Caspar, at his side, axe in one hand, the other slipping into Linhardt’s. Linhardt squeezes Caspar’s hand as they gaze at the carnage surrounding them. 

It’s over. 

“Hey, um,” Caspar says. Linhardt turns to him as Caspar straps his axe to his waist one-handed. He scratches the back of his neck, looking away. “Now that, you know, it’s done.” Linhardt watches as Caspar bites his bottom lip. He wants to brush the dirt off of his chin. 

“Yes, Caspar?”

“I’m kind of in love with you,” Caspar blurts, and then laughs nervously. “Have been. For years” A beat. “Um, that’s it.” 

In a single motion, Caspar raises Linhardt’s hand to his lips, presses a kiss to his knuckles, and then drops it, walking towards where Edelgard is shakily helping the Professor to their feet. 

Linhardt watches him go, frozen to the spot.

Later, they sit around a fire, surrounded by Ferdinand, Bernadetta, and others from their battalions. Ferdinand keeps glancing over his shoulder towards where Hubert, Edelgard, and Professor Byleth are having a long and, Linhardt assumes, intense discussion inside Edelgard’s tent. Bernadetta sits huddled, staring into the fire with a cup of tea Ferdinand had pressed into her hands earlier gone unnoticed and undrunk. 

Linhardt is curled into Caspar’s side, their hands clasped together again, his head tucked into Caspar’s chest. Before, Caspar had startled when Linhardt had moved closer, but he still welcomed him into his arms, and now, sits, cheek resting on top of Linhardt’s head, providing warmth the fire does not. 

Linhardt hasn’t had the chance to respond to Caspar’s declaration. He hasn’t let himself think about it, either. Right now, he’s content to sit like this, peaceful and surrounded by friends. In fact, he can feel himself nodding off, now, and he’s unsure whether they’re staying in the castle at Fhirdiad (if parts of it are even still standing), or inside their tents. 

“Hey,” Caspar says, tickling Linhardt’s hair with his breath. “You’re looking pretty tired, Linhardt.” 

Linhardt hums in response. 

“Come on, buddy. Time for bed,” Caspar says. He nudges Linhardt’s leg with their joined hands. “Want me to carry you?”

He says it like he always does. If Linhardt didn’t already know Caspar wouldn’t push him after his confession, he’d know it now. 

Linhardt nods sleepily, and Caspar scoops him up easily, adjusting Linhardt in his arms so he’s cradled against his shoulder. 

Caspar waves goodbye to Ferdinand and Bernadetta, telling them he’ll be back in a second, and carries Linhardt to their shared tent. Linhardt’s much too exhausted to enjoy the feeling of being carried, but when Caspar lays him sweetly, almost gently onto his cot, he groans. 

Caspar laughs. “Goodnight, Linny.”

Linhardt, much past the point of caring, reaches out, catching Caspar’s hand in his. “Stay?”

Linhardt can practically hear Caspar thinking. He holds his hand tighter. 

“Um, won’t Ferdinand and Bernadetta be wondering why I never came back?”

“I don’t care.”

Caspar considers this. 

Linhardt hates the way his voice whines when he says, “Please?”

It works, though, and Caspar drops his shoulders. “Yeah, Linny, of course.” A pause. “You gotta let go of my hand, though.”

Linhardt reluctantly lets go of Caspar, watching as he strips down to his shirtsleeves and climbs into his own cot across from Linhardt’s.

“Caspar, I…” He can feel himself nodding off, but a sudden sense of urgency, the idea that he has to tell Caspar exactly how he feels right now, before morning, overtakes him. “I-”

“It’s okay, Linhardt.” Caspar yawns. “Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning.” 

For perhaps the first time in his life, though, Linhardt doesn’t want to sleep. It overtakes him anyway. 

The next morning, Linhardt’s shaken awake by Caspar, who looks down at him apologetically. “Hey, Linhardt. Edelgard wants us and a few others to return to Garreg Mach immediately. We gotta go.”

Linhardt blinks, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Tell her to send Dorothea instead.”

“Dorothea’s already going, too.” 

Linhardt scrunches his nose. 

“Come on, Lin. We’re taking a wagon with us. I’ll make room for you in the back, how does that sound?”

“Nice,” Linhardt admits. He stretches and pushes himself to a sitting position, feet hanging off the side of his cot. “Thank you for taking care of me.” 

He looks up to see Caspar’s face, gone red.

“It’s nothing!” Caspar says. “It’s nothing. I know you get tired and all. Don’t even worry about it.”

“Caspar.” Linhardt grabs his hand, pulling him closer.

“Yeah?” Caspar seems shy, skittish. 

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

Caspar gulps, eyes widening.. “Okay.”

Linhardt reaches up, cups Caspar’s face in his hands, and pulls him down. 

Caspar kisses him shyly, almost softly, his rough lips moving slowly over Linhardt’s as he shifts so that he’s propping himself up on the cot with his hands next to Linhardt’s legs. Linhardt feels him sigh, and he can’t help but smile.

It’s only when Linhardt tentatively licks into Caspar’s mouth, his hands moving to his shoulders, that Caspar surges forward. He lets out a high-pitched whine, moving closer as he almost loses his balance, moving his hands to grip Linhardt’s thighs. 

Linhardt traps one of Caspar’s legs between his, and Caspar groans again, pushing forward and sinking down. Linhardt reaches out, gripping Caspar’s hips and pulling him the rest of the way into his lap, reveling in the way Caspar rolls down into him. Caspar continues making small noises into his mouth, and he only grows in volume when Linhardt pulls back slightly, biting down on his bottom lip.

“Linhardt, Caspar, you in there?” Dorothea’s voice comes from outside the tent. “We need to get going.”

They freeze. Linhardt swallows. He watches as Caspar, eyes blown, trails the bob down his throat. 

“All right, I’m coming in-”

“No!” Linhardt says, all but shoving Caspar off his lap. Caspar falls on his ass, giving Linhardt a betrayed look. “We’ll be out in a second!”

“Fine, just hurry up,” Dorothea snaps. “We need to be out of here in a quarter of an hour.” Caspar and Linhardt listen as she walks away.

The second she’s out of earshot, Caspar stands. “What the fuck, Lin?” 

“Sorry,” Linhardt can feel his face heating as he stands, too, brushing off his breeches. “Force of habit.”

“I mean, I’m not mad,” Caspar says. “That was, um. That was nice.”

“It was, wasn’t it?.” 

“So,” Caspar says, drawing the word out. Linhardt kneels down to pull on his boots. “About last night.” 

Linhardt glances up at him. “Yes. Last night.” 

“I kind of told you…”

“I remember.”

They sit in silence for a moment.

“Just know, um.” Caspar’s face is truly red now. 

“Caspar.” Linhardt stands again, boots laced and tied. “I love you.”

“There’s no- wait.”

“Goddess,” Linhardt smiles lazily, stepping closer. “Do you really think I’d be so callous as to kiss you if I didn’t return your feelings?”

Caspar seems torn. “Well, how was I supposed to know that?” He steps forward, smacking Linhardt on the shoulder playfully. “You didn’t tell me!” But he’s grinning, and so is Linhardt, and so Linhardt leans forward to kiss his cheek. 

“And may I say,” Linhardt murmurs, lips pressed against Caspar’s temple. He thinks he could get used to the way Caspar shivers against him. “If you’d like to continue later-”

“ _ Yes _ .” Caspar says. “Yes. Please, yes.” He reaches forward, laying a hand on Linhardt’s waist. 

Linhardt smiles down at him. “All right, then.”

Caspar flushes. “All right.” 

Linhardt sleeps the entire way back to the Monastery, and despite what he’d promised Caspar, can barely get through his bath before falling asleep again, coddled in the comfort of a familiar bed. When he wakes again, he’s not sure what time it is, with the curtains drawn and no lamp on. 

What he is certain of; however, is the pounding on his door. 

“Linhardt, it’s Caspar.” As if he wouldn’t recognize that voice anywhere. “I brought you food.” Without waiting for an answer, Caspar bursts into the room, fresh and beautiful, setting down a tray and yanking open the curtains.

Linhardt covers his eyes with one hand, groaning. “What in Goddess’s name made you think you could wake me up this early?”

“Uh, Linhardt? That’s sunset, not sunrise. Now come on, I won’t make you get up, but you gotta sit to eat.”

Linhardt huffs. He never could refuse Caspar. “I suppose you’re right.” He sits up, leaning against the headboard. 

“Here, I brought you peach sorbet.” Caspar shoves the tray onto Linhardt’s lap and a spoon into his hand, moving to sit at the foot of Linhardt’s bed. “And I’m not leaving until you eat it.”

“Since when did you get so authoritative?” 

Caspar opens his mouth to protest. 

“Hold on now, Caspar. I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Caspar jumps to his feet, laughing nervously. 

Linhardt frowns, setting down his spoon. “Was that too much?” 

“No,” Caspar says quickly, looking anywhere in the room but at Linhardt. “I just, um. I like it when you talk to me like that.”

“Oh.” After a beat, “Well, then. I suppose I should hurry up with the sorbet.” 

Caspar sits on the edge of the bed again as Linhardt begins to eat. 

“Oh, and tonight or tomorrow, whenever you come out of your room again,” Caspar’s taken on the tone of rambling he gets whenever he’s nervous, and Linhardt hides his smile with his spoon. “Bernadetta is making patches for everyone and needs to know your favorite colors. I told her green and yellow but she said that you had to tell her so that’s something you need to do. Oh, also Edelgard and Hubert and Ferdinand and the Professor are all coming back tomorrow, and we’re pretty sure they’re going to bring news of the Church’s surrender. I mean, we killed Rhea, so I can’t really think of something more they could do? Man, I wonder what it’s going to be like without all this fighting all the time.”

It feels familiar, Linhardt thinks. Sitting here, in his bed, with Caspar rambling on, no response expected. It’s happened often enough in the past six years they’ve been residing at the Academy, and it’s good to know some things never change. 

The world is changing, Linhardt thinks. He looks at Caspar. 

He just hopes he and Caspar can change with it, together.

When he’s finished, It takes Caspar a moment to realize Linhardt’s done, so wrapped up is he in regaling him with a tale of how he took down a wyvern flier (“All by myself!” he reminds him) in the battle two days ago. When he does, though, he cuts himself off abruptly. 

“Why did you stop?” Linhardt asks, pulling his knees to his chest. “I do enjoy listening to you, you know.” 

“You’re done eating.” Caspar says. 

“That I am.” 

“Do you remember yesterday?” Caspar tugs on his collar. 

“Caspar, I can assure you, no matter how many times you ask, I will always remember the day before.”

Caspar flushes, a nervous, hungry look in his eye that sends a thrill through Linhardt. “I want to kiss you again.”

Linhardt blinks. “Well, then.” He yawns. “Let me move the tray. You close the blinds and light a fire.” Invigorated, Linhardt shifts, moving his blankets and reaching behind him to put the tray on top of his dresser while Caspar gets up to follow his instructions. “There.”

When the blinds are drawn, Caspar turns back, biting his lip. 

Linhardt smiles up at him, teasing. “Better get on with it, before I fall asleep again.”

Caspar nods, taking a deep breath. He climbs back onto the bed, kneeling in front of Linhardt. He looks so nervous that Linhardt might consider teasing him a bit more, if his own heart weren't trying to pound its way out of his chest. 

They kiss again, and it's sweet, the saccharine taste of peaches between lips and tongue. Unlike the previous day, there's no sense of urgency, no place where they need to be.

Linhardt leans forward, propping himself into a kneeling position without breaking the kiss. He settles his hands on Caspar's waist, where he can feel the heat of him bleeding its way through his tunic. 

Reflecting back, he should've known Caspar's patience wouldn't last. 

The next thing Linhardt knows, he’s being pressed back onto his mattress, one of Caspar's hands on his chest and the other tangling through his hair. 

It's overwhelming in a good way - laying here, drowning in Caspar's warmth. It’s in the way the sun seems to shine brighter around him, even when indoors. It's the way he's always been, ever since they met. The steady rock in the storm that constantly threatens to consume Linhardt's mind. 

And maybe this was inevitable, Linhardt thinks as Caspar pulls away to kiss at his jaw, his throat, his collarbone. After all, whenever he did think of the future all he knew is that he wanted Caspar at his side. 

He might’ve followed that train of thought, had Caspar not chosen that moment to bite down on Linhardt's neck, just below the collar. Linhardt lets out a ghastly moan, his hips snapping up to roll against Caspar's. 

Caspar startles, pulling off and sitting up. The weight of him, low on Linhardt's hips, almost makes him groan again. 

"Was that okay?" Caspar asks sheepishly.

Linhardt has to lay in silence for a moment as he catches his breath, but he nods. "Goddess, yes. Better than okay. Just… unexpected."

"What's that supposed to mean?”

"No, no, nothing bad." Linhardt reaches up to stroke Caspar's cheek. "I just didn't think you had… experience in these sort of things."

"What? I've kissed people before!" Caspar pouts. 

"Yeah? Who?" Linhardt cocks an eyebrow.

Caspar scrunches his nose. "Ugh. Fine. Two people. Including you." 

Linhardt laughs, sitting up. He leans in, softly kissing Caspar's pout away. "Well, Caspar, just know we can go slow, if you want. I'll be here." He runs his hands up and down Caspar's arms.

"What? No." Caspar flushes. "I want to kiss you. And I, um."

"Yeah?" Linhardt smiles. 

"I want to, um, take your shirt off?" Caspar says like a question. 

"You know, Caspar, you're typically so sure of yourself. You're cute when you're shy." 

Caspar buries his face in his hands, but Linhardt can see where his blush reaches the tips of his ears. "Don't make fun of me." 

"I'm not," Linhardt promises, taking Caspar's hands in his. "I must admit, I usually am, but this time I'm not." He leans in and kisses Caspar's palm, feather-light. "Please, Caspar. You can definitely,  _ definitely _ take my shirt off." He guides Caspar's hands to his hips, where his nightshirt hangs low over his waist.

Caspar gulps. Slowly, almost reverently, he curls his fingers around the hem. Linhardt shivers as Caspar's fingertips ghost up his ribs, across his shoulders, and over his head. 

Linhardt sits back. Caspar’s blush crawls down his neck as he stares openly at Linhardt. 

"You've seen me shirtless before, you know." 

"It's, wow. It's different."

"Well, you can look as long as you want. Goddess knows I don't mind looking at you."

Caspar reaches out, placing his hands lightly on Linhardt's hips, his thumbs just brushing in the dip below his hip bone. Linhardt, feeling maybe just a bit hedonistic, covers Caspar's hands with his own, pressing them more firmly into his sides. He watches the line down Caspar's throat as he swallows. 

Linhardt leans in, pressing a soft kiss to his Adam’s Apple. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he says, and waits for Caspar's nod of approval before lifting Caspar's tunic. 

Linhardt's always known Caspar is muscular, but once he divulges him of his shirt, he finds himself staring at his arms, his bulging chest, his defined abs dipping below his waistline. 

"Who's the one staring now?" Caspar teases, but the red on his cheeks betrays him. 

"I love you," Linhardt says, and pulls Caspar to him, letting their clothes fall to the ground at his side. 

Their kisses have a new urgency, now, Linhardt nipping and licking at Caspar’s bottom lip until Caspar groans, clutching Linhardt’s hair in both hands. 

Linhardt's in love. He's in love with the way Caspar licks into his mouth, curling his tongue against the roof in a way that makes Linhardt squirm beneath him. He's in love with the way Caspar moves his grip from his hair to his sides, tucking his hands beneath Linhardt's arching back. He's in love with the way Caspar whines into his mouth when he reaches his hands up to give Caspar's nipples an experimental press. 

When he rolls Caspar's nipples with his thumbs, Caspar buckles above him. 

"Linhardt, I-" 

"Hm?" Linhardt quite enjoys how red Caspar's face is, and he can feel heat growing between his own legs at Caspar's desperation.

"I want to- Can I-" Caspar cuts himself off with a high-pitched groan when Linhardt leans forward to nibble at his collarbone. 

"Yes, Caspar?" And he knows he shouldn't, he knows it's unfair, but Linhardt continues, "Come on, now. Use your words."

" _ Fuck _ ," Caspar breathes. 

Linhardt smiles against his skin. 

"I want to touch you." Caspar blurts after he gets his breathing under control. "Um, down there." 

Linhardt snorts. "I know what you meant."

"Give me a break, Lin," Caspar pouts. 

Linhardt raises his head to kiss the tip of his nose, then smiles, easing back onto his pillows. "Believe me, Caspar. I'm all yours."

Caspar swallows, and Linhardt can do nothing but watch as he fumbles with the laces of his bloomers, before, in a move that's so incredibly Caspar, giving up and shoving them down his legs anyway. 

Linhardt laughs, raising his hips to help, and when Caspar tosses them across the room with gusto, Linhardt pulls him back up for a kiss. 

Caspar props himself up on one arm, the other coming between them to brush against Linhardt's thigh. It's cute, Linhardt thinks, how timid Caspar's being. It's certainly not what he'd expected, but the moment Caspar's thumb meets his clit, he stops expecting anything and instead bites his lip to keep from moaning.

"Does that feel good?" Caspar checks, and Linhardt can do nothing but pull him down for a heady, open-mouthed kiss as Caspar rubs circles around him. 

Soon, Caspar's kissing Linhardt's neck, down his chest, pressing soft kisses to the scars below his pecs. He hesitates above his belly. 

"Hey, Linhardt?" Caspar says, voice squeaking. "Can I?" 

Linhardt ropes one hand in Caspar's hair, pushing him down. "Please, Caspar." 

Like before, Caspar's reserved at first, using his fingers to spread Linhardt's lips and leaning in, hands on Linhardt's thighs for support as he gives a tentative lick through Linhardt's folds before pressing a kiss to his clit. 

"That's good, Caspar. Goddess." And it is, Linhardt thinks as Caspar redoubles his efforts from Linhardt's praise. What Caspar lacks in experience and coordination, he makes up for in his boundless enthusiasm, in the fact that he's Caspar. Caspar, with his calloused hands digging into Linhardt's thighs so hard that Linhardt is sure he's unaware of his own strength; Caspar's hair, wrapped around Linhardt's fingers as he holds him steady; Caspar's lips and tongue, switching from sucking on Linhardt's clit to swiping and prodding through his folds in a way that might not be rhythmic, but is certainly enough. 

Linhardt murmurs praises, relishing in the way he can feel Caspar pressing even closer whenever he does. 

He's already close when he looks down at Caspar, and the look in Caspar's eyes, full of love, is what finally pushes Linhardt over the edge. He groans when he cums, grip tightening on Caspar's hair as he pulls away slightly, pressing kisses against Linhardt's inner thighs.

"Caspar," Linhardt breathes, releasing his grip on Caspar's hair. Caspar sits up, looking down at Linhardt with a blush high on his cheeks, the bottom of his face damp and shiny. 

"Was that... okay?" 

"Come here," Linhardt interlocks their fingers together, reaching with his other hand to wipe off Caspar’s mouth before bringing him down for a kiss. He strokes his thumb along Caspar's knuckles, gazing up at him with a smile on his face. "We'll definitely work on your technique, but for a first try? Remarkable work."

Caspar grins. "Really? Awesome. I mostly just did what I," his blush deepens. “What I imagined. With you, I mean." 

Linhardt raises his eyebrows. "Oh?" He releases Caspar's grip to run his hands up and down Caspar's sides. "You imagined this, did you?" 

"Shut up," Caspar flushes, and Linhardt leans up for a kiss. 

"It's okay, Caspar." Linhardt leans in close, as if whispering a secret as he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of Caspar's breeches. "I did, too." 

Caspar whimpers. 

"Can I take these off?" Linhardt asks, and makes quick work of the laces when Caspar nods. "You know, though," he says, using the same casual tone, "I never imagined you'd be quite so shy." He inches Caspar's pants and smalls over his hips, his ass. "I always thought you'd just jump right into it all." He shoves them down to his knees, allowing Caspar to kneel and pull them the rest of the way off. "No holds barred." 

Caspar gapes at him. 

"Don't get me wrong," Linhardt says, pulling Caspar back on top of him and giving him a soft peck on the lips. "I didn't mind it at all." 

"I wanted," Caspar swallows. "I wanted to be gentle with you." 

"And I love you for that," Linhardt says. He kisses Caspar again, eyes fluttering closed as he licks away the faint taste of himself still present in Caspar’s mouth. As they kiss, Linhardt digs one hand into Caspar's hip, drawing small circles over it with his thumb.

"I'd quite like to touch you," Linhardt says when they part again. "If that's alright with you."

"Yes," Caspar says, and then, “You’re beautiful, Lin.”

"Splendid and thank you," Linhardt says. He brings his own hand to his mouth, watching Caspar's eyes widen as he gives them a quick suck. 

He starts with Caspar's clit, applying gentle pressure with his thumb before slipping one slick finger inside him, then another. 

It doesn't take long after that. Linhardt curls his fingers inside Caspar, pressing the heel of his palm against his clit. Caspar gasps and sighs above him, hips jerkily thrusting down onto Linhardt's hand. Linhardt can tell he's close, and briefly flirts with the thought of teasing him, bringing him down off the edge and then rising up again. It's something for a different day, though, and instead, he redoubles his efforts, burying his face into Caspar's neck. 

When Linhardt bites down at the hollow of his throat, Caspar cums on Linhardt’s hand, groaning into his shoulder. Linhardt fingers him through it, only pulling out to wipe his hand on the sheets next to him when Caspar collapses on top of his chest. 

Caspar pants, rolling over to Linhardt's side. Linhardt looks down at him. 

"Holy shit," Caspar breathes, and Linhardt laughs, kissing the top of his head. 

They lay there for a moment, both waiting for their breathing to slow down. Eventually, Caspar scoots up, curling into Linhardt's side. Linhardt puts his arm around him. 

"I love you," Caspar says, tracing shapes on the planes of Linhardt's chest. 

Linhardt hums, yawning. "You, too." 

After another moment’s silence, Caspar stills, the hand on Linhardt's chest lying flat. "I'm not going back to Bergliez, Linhardt." 

"Okay," Linhardt says, snuggling closer. He knows, objectively, that they should get up and clean before bed, but he's so comfortable and warm here with Caspar that he feels himself starting to nod off, all the same. 

"Are you," Caspar lifts his head to look up at him. "Are you going back to Hevring?"

Linhardt smiles, brushing Caspar's bangs off his forehead. "No." 

"Where are you gonna go?" Caspar asks, a note of hope entering his voice.

Linhardt pretends to think about it. "Hm… not sure. There is this man I love. Might just follow him around." 

Caspar frowns.

"I mean you, Caspar." Linhardt looks down at him through half-lidded eyes. "I'll go where you go. And no matter what, I'll be there." 

Caspar looks like he just might cry. He kisses Linhardt's shoulder. "Me, too," he agrees. "Me, too." 

They can clean up tomorrow, Linhardt decides. Sticky skin is nothing when Caspar's at his side, warm and real and alive, and there's no war, no battle on the horizon. Just a future, as bright as the setting sun. He and Caspar, together. 


End file.
